Solitude

a blessing, so people say, and perhaps

it is, sometimes, this time spent

alone, in silence mostly, walking,

the sun warm on my face, a clear

stream flowing nearby, a soft burble

of water moving toward the lake,

the scent of pine and fir, early Christmas,

and I find myself, thus, sorting out my life,

the little pleasures of being here, now,

the pain, even, of the past returning;

but other times, this solitude turns

to loneliness, a longing to share

the sunshine and clear stream, pine and fir,

sharing myself, even, with another person:

solitude seeking out someone to share

this blessing with, twice blessed.